


In My Veins

by jadesolo



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-05
Updated: 2015-11-05
Packaged: 2018-04-30 02:42:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5147321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jadesolo/pseuds/jadesolo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jemma deals with the effects of remembering her true experiences on the planet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In My Veins

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Written as a prompt ("sweet dreams") on Tumblr for cosmiclaras. The title of the fic comes from the Andrew Bell song that heavily inspired the fic as I was listening it to it while I wrote. Small trigger warning: one of the characters end up (unintentionally) cutting their fingers with broken glass (but there isn't any graphic details on it). Comments and feedback are welcome! :)

Jemma stared at the article in her hands, the article Fitz had printed out not that long ago in an attempt to learn something about the man Jemma had been with for majority of her time on that hell-hole of a planet. Will looked particularly handsome in the photograph, and much cleaner that she’d ever seen him.

But then, she had never actually seen him.

It felt like a poisoned tipped knife was being thrust into her stomach each time she thought about it-how the planet had manipulated her. Made her believe she wasn’t alone. Gave her someone who she could trust, someone who she believed in, someone she could love-

Tears welled up in Jemma’s eyes, and she angrily crumpled up the article and threw it across her room. It hit the wall before bouncing back onto the floor. 

She had been alone. And now she remembered. Remembered it like a bad dream. Running, crying only when she allowed herself, being chased by  _creatures._ The Evil laughing at her as she sobbed, begging for the sun to rise, begging to go home. 

The memories-her  _real_  memories-were buried deep within her. She was still haunted by them-still recoiled at loud noises occasionally. The sight of the wine at the dinner must have triggered her false memories, burying her symptoms of PTSD.

_"I use to think the same thing before I met you.”_

“No!” Jemma screamed, anger flowing through her veins like a drug. And she used it, taking it out on the bits and bobs she kept on her desk-including the vase of beautiful daisies Daisy had given her. The vase hit the floor, shattering instantly as soon as it came into contact with the ground. “No, no, no,” Jemma sobbed, sinking down to her knees, viciously pushing aside shards of glass away from her, shredding her fingers as she did.

The door to her bedroom burst open, and Fitz stood there, panting heavily. “Jemma-” his breathing slowed slightly as his gaze fell upon her. Then his gaze turned toward the broken face. “What the hell-?”

Jemma said nothing in reply, tears still streaming down her face. 

After a moment of silence, she heard her bedroom door shut with a click. For a moment she thought Fitz had left, but then she heard the crinkling of someone stepping on broken glass. She glanced up and through her blurry vision she could see Fitz glancing down at the mess she’d caused.

Carefully, he swept aside a rather large pile of glass with his shoe and he sat down beside her. “You’re bleeding,” he said sharply. Jemma could sense his panic and tried to downplay the pain in her fingers.

“Can’t feel a thing,” she told him, trying to smile and failing to do so. Her shoulders began to shake, and she gasped as the next sob lodged in her throat. 

Fitz said nothing as he wrapped his arm around her shoulder, and she leaned into him, taking a deep shaky breath as she did, enjoying the simple smell of Leopold Fitz. He smelled of tea and sugar and...smoke? He must have been working on something in the lab with Bobbi. 

He didn’t say it was okay, or a billion other different lies. He didn’t say anything, just kept his arm protectively around her, as if he could shield her from the horrors life threw at them simply by holding her, and she believed he could.

After a while, her sobs subsided and for an even longer while, they both remained silent. At one point, Fitz got up to get a plaster from the bathroom to put on the cuts on Jemma’s fingers, before returning to his previous postition of holding her. Finally, Jemma found her voice. “He reminded me of you, you know.” Fitz started a little, and Jemma figured he must have thought she’d fallen asleep. He said nothing at first, carefully choosing his reply.

“Why?”

“He was funny,” Jemma answered. “Brave and clever. He reminded me of you and of my father. I guess I should’ve realized he wasn’t real just by that.” 

“You couldn’t have known.” Fitz replied softly.

“If that godforsaken planet had chosen you, I would have.” Jemma said bitterly. Fitz froze at that, but Jemma was too caught up in her anger that she missed it. “It wouldn’t have worked if it was you-”

“W-” Fitz coughed, then continued, “Why not?”

“Because that monster was trying to drain me of hope. Of a reason to live and not just survive.”

“How does that figure into me?”

Jemma leaned away from him, looking as if he’d just told her he hated her or something just as horrible. “There’s no one else that gives me hope more than you.”

His gaze met hers with such an intensity that she almost edged away. His mouth was dropped slightly, in a perfect ‘o’. After a moment, he managed a hoarse, “Jemma-?”

She started to lean towards him, like there was a magnetic pull between the two of them. His eyes were wide and she could feel a blush creeping up on her face but she didn’t care-

Just as her lips were just about to meet his, a different memory clouded her mind’s eye, of a scene very similar to this one, but on a different planet, with a person who never really existed. Immediately, Jemma pulled away with a start. “I’m sorry-” she whispered, looking away from Fitz with embarrassment and regret. “I can’t do that to you.”

“Do what?” 

“Do the same thing I did with Will. Throw myself at the first chance of happiness I have in order to forget the pain.”

“You did not do that, Jemma-”

“But I did, Fitz!” She said sharply, turning back to him. “And I left him!”

“He wasn’t-” Fitz started, but then immediately trailed off realizing where he had been going. “There’s was no way you could have saved him, Jem.”

Jemma sighed. “Are you so sure?”

“A hundred and twelve percent,” Fitz responded with a smile. “All that matters is that you’re back.  _And that you will be okay._ ”

Jemma stared at him for a moment, then nodded. Fitz gave her an even warmer smile and stood up. “Now,” he said with an authoritative tone,  “you are to go and lie down in bed while I sweep this up. Then I am going to bring you the best damn tea you’ve ever had. And a sandwich. Probably two,” he added as his stomach let out a small rumble.

Jemma let out a laugh that ended just as it began. Fitz gave her a warm smile and took off to find a broom. About twenty minutes later, the mess had been cleaned up (he wouldn’t let her help clean, no matter how many protests she gave), she had drank all of her cuppa (which had been the best she’d ever had) and had ate her sandwich (Fitz had lied and had brought back four sandwiches. Two for both of them. He ended up eating three).

Now Jemma was just lying in bed, watching Fitz as he sat in the chair beside her, reading an inscription from the third  _Harry Potter_  novel, her favorite of the three. Not for the first time, Jemma found herself admiring Fitz, his little scruff and his curly dark blonde hair. Especially his bright blue eyes-they were hypnotic.

After a while, Fitz stopped reading, his voice hoarse. “You okay?”

“Fine,” Jemma said with a yawn. “Just tired.”

Fitz nodded, then stood up, sitting the book down and moving across the floor back to the bed and messing with the blankets so that they covered all of her. Then he moved to the lamp and switched it off.

“What are you doing?” Jemma asked, sitting up.

“You said you were tired,” Fitz explained. She could just barely make out him sitting back down beside the bed. “Besides, if you can’t fix a problem, you-”

“Sleep on it,” Jemma finished.

“And god knows we have plenty of problems,” Fitz said with a dramatic sigh. Jemma laughed slightly. There was a moment of silence, then Fitz said, “But we’re going to fix them, alright? Together. I promise you, Jemma.”

“Thank you, Leo.”

“Sweet dreams, Jemma.”


End file.
